Fifty More Pickles and Another Large Fish
by Graham Chapman
Summary: Ford and Arthur go on a great adventure.
1. Author's note

Bad news, guys.

I have been forced to -this hurts- make chapters. I know, I know. Don't say I didn't warn you, right?

Anyways, I was making excellent progress on the whole typing the sequel deal but then I got totally stalled. And so I'm just going post what I got, okay? I'm even putting the author's note at the start!

I'd like to thank the Academy, Leah and Marion for being so funny everytime I'm trying to concentrate and Douglas Adams—without you, I'd have no body to plagiarize. I'd also like to thanks all the cools who've posted comments. And Ringo for the hate mail.

I wouldn't really like to thank my old account for having the e-mail I usually use. So if you saw this posted under "heinzdieter" that's my fault and just forget about it.


	2. What I've Got

FIFTY MORE PICKLES AND ANOTHER LARGE FISH

"Where's my chicken?" Arthur asked, extremely distressed.

"In your mitt, I assume," said Ford Prefect lazily.

(Following is a rather lengthy passage about Ford Prefect and his reflections on the subject of mitts. If you don't happen to be in one or another of those topics, I suggest you skip ahead: there is where the action begins and it's got Melvin in it too.)

Ford Prefect had recently developed an obsession with oven mitts and believed they were key to any aspiring hitchhiker. Ford also happened to be a field journalist. He wrote articles for a book. A book more popular than How To Turn Your Ear into A Pretty Good Tasting Cabbage by Ernie Plight, better selling than Autobiography of a Hoopy Frood by Zaphod Beeblebrox, and more controversial than How I Plan to Kill God (With My Music) by Leah Lennon (of the Ooblex Crush). He worked for the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and was well known for his ridiculously in depth entry on a planet whose inhabitants still thought digital watches were a rather neat idea.

This is what Ford Prefect has to say on the subject of oven mitts:

_Oven mitts are one of the most spectacularly useful things invented since the towel. They are extremely convenient for carrying around as they are made in the shape of a hand (the connection being you can put them on your hands-bang the rocks together, guys). They are excellent insulators so if you wanted to keep something warm, say, a chicken or your head, you would merely put said object in to your glove._

_The origin of the word 'lifty' comes from oven mitts, the word lifty meaning 'really cool and together guy' (the more literal translation being 'has a warm chicken and/or head'). For example, in a sentence, you the word would be used like so: Do you sass that hoopy frood, Ford Prefect? That guy is really lifty and always knows where his towel is and his oven mitt too._

On board the Heart of Gold, Marion was happily reading aloud a bunch of Firefly quotes she'd found on Eddie, the ship's computer. Penny and Leah were seated on the floor next to her, half listening and half not-partly because they'd heard them so many times. Even Eddie had been unable to find some Buffy quote Marion had not heard-the improbability of it being as good as infinity to none, such steep odds that it would likely explode the universe to try. They sighed.

"You realize you can sit on chairs," Trillian informed them.

"It's more natural this way," Leah informed her back.

Trillian rolled her eyes.

"Hey, wow, you guys!" gurgled Eddie suddenly. "Incoming message!" The screen flickered and the face of Gag Halfrunt appeared.

"You!" cried Zaphod.

"Yes," said the brain care specialist. "I just thought I'd talk to you all before I killed you but I can't really think of anything to say."

"But how did you ever find us?" cried someone.

"Oh, it was a simple matter for my starship captain. Isn't that right….Melvin!"

"Captain Garglefront Deathlord!" corrected a high pitched squeaky voice whinily. The owner of the voice stumbled in front of the camera giving the crew of the Heart of Gold a view of a rumpled up t-shirt with the slogan 'Frodo Lives' emblazoned on it. "Oh, oops," giggled the voice. "Too close." He stepped back and their view of the t-shirt was replaced by the head and torso on an extremely nerdy boy. "Hello!" said Melvin cheerily. "My name's Melvin and I own joo. You can call me Captain Garglefront Deathlord. To the maaaaaaaaaaax!"

"I don't know what's going on but I don't like it," said Arthur.

Melvin gasped and pointed at Marion and Penny. "You look exactly like Eowyn! And you look exactly like Hermione! My sexual fantasies are coming true! Will either of you marry me!"

"Melvin," said Gag Halfrunt firmly. "Now is neither the time nor the place."

The screen flickered off.

The screen turned back on.

"Enjoy dying!" said Gag Halfrunt.

"HA!" said Ford. "You'll never kill us!"

"Well, I at least have to try," said Halfrunt indifferently.

Penny was thinking very hard about some things. This is what she thought: "I wish I hadn't forgotten my computer on earth. There are some things I wanted to do on that. How am I supposed to keep up with FA if I can't get on the IDS website. I guess I could ask Eddie but—I don't know. Heh, heh, the Beatles are so great. 'I once had a girl or should I say she once had me nee nee neee nee-'" Gag Halfrunt's ship started firing. "-a fine kettle of fish. Cheese. Swiss cheese." The Hearth of Gold slipped in to an alternate universe far, far away from Gag Halfrunt's ship and the traitorous Melvin.

"Wait-no!" said Zaphod alarmed. "The whole scheme was me finding that brain dude and killing him! Or something! Give me that pen!" Zaphod snatched the pan and began writing.

The Heart of Gold slipped back to wherever it had been only now it had about fifty Sure-Kill 500 blaster cannons on it and reduced that un-froody dude to a pile of ashes.

"Ow," he said.

"Ow," said his wimpy sidekick.

"Ow," said Heinz Dieter, the wimpy sidekick's girlfriend, in a brief cameo.

"HA HA HA," laughed Zaphod, the hippest, hoopiest, froodiest, liftiest dude. He had a really big—muscles.

"I love you!" cried Trillian. "You are the coolest guy!" They went off and made it happen.

"My head is on fire," whined Arthur. "And my tea has been shoved you-know-where."

"ARRRRGH!" cried Penny, snatching back the pen. "You are RUINING my story!" And then Zaphod diedlived. Only he was transported as far from the ship as humanly possible (at an improbability of 126 546 916:1) And a flowerpot fell on Arthur's head but that is inconsequential.

Zaphod ran in the room, playing the banjo madly. "Guys, guys! Important news!"

"That's some nice banjo playing," commented Ford.

"How did you get back here?" cried Penny, outraged. "I thought I fixed you for good!"

"Yeah, anyways," said Zaphod shiftily. "I met this really cool frood who promised to fix all my problems!" He stepped aside to reveal a slightly nervous looking man.

"H-hello," said the slightly nervous looking man, as though he wasn't quite sure how to start. "My name is Doctor Proctor."

"I didn't realize you realized you had problems," said Trillian archly at Zaphod.

"Er, yeah," said Zaphod. "I knew that. You conartist!" he cried at the Doctor and pushed him out in to space.

"Ahhh!" cried Doctor Proctor before he died of asphyxiation.

"I wonder what direction this story is going in?" Wondered someone, wondering what direction the story was going.

"Stop playing that banjo," snapped Arthur testily.

Zaphod stopped playing the banjo and an unnatural silence settled over the ship.

Arthur managed to trip on something. "Ow!" he said. Ford tackled the something.

"Ah ha!" cried Ford, picking up the something. "A plot!"

"A what?" asked Arthur.

"A plot!" repeated Ford.

"You mean I tripped on a plot?"

"Yes," said Ford exasperated.

"Well…Is it a good one?"

"Probably not," said Zaphod, meanly.

"Well, it's my plot and I like it," Arthur said defensively.

ARTHUR'S PLOT

One day, Arthur Dent was having a nice cup of tea. "This is nice," he said. "I think I'll take a walk. And I might just pop in to the pub."

On the way to the pub, some little boys came and kicked Arthur in the shins.

"Ow," he said.

THE END

There was a long pause.

"Well, that was lousy," commented Ford.

"I liked it," said Arthur.

"Dung Brians," said Zaphod.

"You try it if you're so smart. And what's wrong with Brians?" snapped Arthur.

"I have an idea," admitted Ford. "And I AM the only one here who writes for a living."

FORD'S IDEA

The Hitchhiker's Guide has this to say on the subject of flowerpots:

Flowerpots are the single most unlikely objects in the Galaxy. Irrational creatures, they are often falling on the heads of others. In fact, the most likely unlikely thing to happen to you is to have a flowerpot fall on your head for no apparent reason. They are very malicious and have a strong sense of flowerpotial pride.

Once, a foolish race of Nimplots insulted flowerpots and thereafter, their entire race was under constant attack by a never ending brigade of warrior flowerpots.

A common insult or curse is "May your toes curl up and many flowerpots fall upon your head." When saying this to someone, be sure to wear a hard hat as a wandering flowerpot may be insulted at being an insult.

END

"That wasn't a story," said Arthur, feeling a little ripped off. "That was just some entry you wrote for the Hitchhiker's Guide!"

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," said Ford quietly.

Suddenly Gag Halfrunt ran in to the room, snatched Zaphod's banjo and began playing it. "Ha ha!" he cried, jumped in to the teleporter and disappeared.

"Oh no," said Trillian. "I guess now we have to go get Zaphod's banjo back and kill Halfrunt more… better…"

"Damn straight," said Zaphod.

Leah began absentmindedly tapping her library book.

"There's no time for that!" shouted Ford dramatically and THREW the book out the window.

"Nnnnnno!" cried Leah and Arthur. "Not the library book! The fines will be enormous!"

"Quick!" cried Ford. "In to the teleporter!"

They all jumped in to the teleporter.

"Ow," said someone. "My face is spread all over."

Zaphod punched the teleport-a button-a.

"Shouldn't we have programmed our destination?" asked Arthur anxiously.

"No," said Zaphod sarcastically.

KA-BOOM!

Was the noise the teleporter made as it teleported.

The door opened to reveal the inevitable desert-like planet.

"Oh joy," said Arthur gloomily.

Zaphod peered over the top of his extra dark sunglasses which he was wearing for added coolness. "Wow," he said.

"The landscape is-" started Trillian.

"-Inevitable," finished Ford, grimly. He pulled his oven mitt firmly down on his head, wincing as a bit of chicken was pushed against his skull. "I think we're in for one epic battle."

"Oh whew," said Marion. "Only one epic battle. That's nice and to the point."

"I'd rather have no battles," snapped Arthur.

For the second time that day, a flowerpot fell on Arthur's head.

"This must be what going mad is like," commented Arthur.

"I hope I'm mad," said Ford in a slightly disturbing tone.

"I'm fairly sure you are," said Arthur timidly.

By this time they were surrounded by about five hundred vertically challenged men with pointy sticks.

"Excuse me," said what appeared to be the leader of the vertically challenged troops. "But I hope to Dickens you won't mind if we take you hostage and treat you somewhat badly."

"Careful guys," cautioned Ford. "He's got an acid tongue, this one."

Arthur was very surprised. "I thought he was being considerably polite."

"That's because you are a dumb monkey from a planet entirely populated by dumb monkeys," Zaphod explained. He turned to the dwarf. "Now listen you, we don't want any trouble but you had better take us to your leader cause I am looking for an exceptionally important banjo. _And_ it would be _nice_ if you got us something to drink," he added as an afterthought.

WHAM was the noise the dwarf's stick made as it whacked Zaphod's shin. The dwarf liked the sound so much, he did it again: WHAM. "Please! Call me Edward!" said Edward the dwarf politely.

After that they had no choice but to follow the cruel dwarfs with the dirty mouths. Ford felt very frustrated as if he had had even one Kill-O-Zap gun, he could have fried their pancakes to next week. Other than a certain amount of concern regarding the sticks, Arthur felt fairly optimistic-a mood which worried him quite a bit.

Amidst good natured sounding oaths, Ford, Trillian, Arthur, Zaphod and the rest were shoved in to a small hole leading to an underground chamber.

"May I take your coat?" inquired one of the dwarfs, indicating Arthur's bathrobe.

"That would be very nice only I'm afraid I'm not wearing anything underneath it," declined Arthur.

The dwarf hit Arthur on the shins just in case he was being rude. Arthur's optimistic mood vanished abruptly. Trillian distanced herself from Arthur slightly. He didn't notice as he was involved with clutching his shin whilst attempting to walk.

Zaphod had compensated the coolness of one of his heads and removed on pair of sunglasses in order to see properly. "Foul mouthed barbarians," he muttered as his coat was offered to be taken.

They entered an impressively gilded chamber with a throne in it. Edward waddled over to it and sat down. "Now what's all this about a banjo?"

They gibbered.

"Listen buddy," began Zaphod in a rage. "You're so un-cool you could melt ice just by looking at it. You're so un-hip, I'm surprised your pants don't fall down-" These were the worst insults he could think of under pressure "-If you know anything about my banjo, you'd better say so right now or I'm going to have to…put my hat on backwards!"

"Dickens!" said the dwarf rudely. "Meat pie! BUNDTCAKES!"

"I could murder this dwarf," muttered Zaphod to Ford.

"The only thing that can kill a dwarf is having his tunnes collapse and his gold veins run dry," Ford reminded him.

"I hope your veins collapse and your tunnes run dry," spat Zaphod at Edward.

Edward was properly shocked. "I'm properly shocked," he said.

"That does it," said Ford angrily. "It's one thing to insult us collectively but it's another thing entirely to insult the only girl here-" he pointed at Trillian "-Put 'em up you bastards!"

Penny, Marion, and Leah made sounds of indignance.

"It's another thing entirely to insult one of the four girls here!" Ford corrected himself.

A stampede of girls ran into the room.

"I can't count them all!" cried Ford dramatically whilst gesturing with a finger.

Zaphod was gliding through the girls much as a bowling ball might glide through water.

The girls disappeared (except for the ones with names).

"Great Heavens!" cried Edward the dwarf, extremely distressed.

"You just don't learn, do you?" growled Ford.

"Will someone please tell me what Mr. Edward is doing wrong?" asked Arthur very worried. He as worried that he had gone mad and no one had bothered to tell him.

"I dunno," shrugged Leah.

"He's a bloody dirt mouth, that's what's wrong!" said Ford.

Edward nodded sorrowfully to his troops who began gleefully whamming at the party's shins.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" said everyone.

Hastily, all the dwarfs' tunnes collapsed and their gold veins ran dry. So they died. Teach them. Rude bastards.

"My banjo is clearly not here!" cried Zaphod, determined to sound heroic.

"Onward!" cried Ford.

"Let's spilt up to make better time," suggested Zaphod. "I'll go with the girls! Or at least Trillian!" Zaphod ran heroically in to the teleporter pulling Trillian with him.

Leah, Penny, and Marion went hastily in afterwards so they wouldn't get split up.

"Erm," said Ford looking at Arthur.

"Um," said Arthur not looking at Ford.

"Shall we?" asked Ford.

"Well, I don't think I have any choice so, alright," said Arthur.

They stepped in to the teleporter and push-

PENNY, LEAH AND MARION'S ADVENTURE

When the three teenage girls steeped out of the teleporter, they found themselves standing in a movie theater on a linoleum floor which was a pretty nice shade of blue.

"That's a nice coloured floor," commented Penny.

"Yeah, I like it too. Good choice," agreed Marion.

"Where are we?" asked Leah.

"Who cares?" wondered Marion.

"Hey look!" said Marion. "It's Zaphod's banjo!"

"Lifty!" said Penny.

"I'm going to play some groovy tunes on it!" said Marion. And she did.

"That was good of us to find Zaphod's banjo," said Leah. "I wonder if we'll ever see him again?"

"Let's watch movies," said Penny. "We ARE standing in a pretty nice movie theater, after all."

"Okay, good point," said Marion.

"True," said Leah. "But what movie ought we to watch? This one? That one! I don't know!" she added dramatically.

"Nevermind, let's not watch a movie," said Penny, reconsidering.

"Should we! Shouldn't we!" debated Leah.

"We shouldn't," said Penny firmly.

"Oh, alright," said Leah.

"Let's go anyways," suggested Marion.

"Okay," said Penny.

So they walked in to the theater.


	3. Intermission

One day, Ford was making a scientific experiment. He wanted to prove that one could walk and chew bubblegum at the same time. His test object was Arthur Dent. Arthur Dent was thankful for the bubblegum until he tried to walk away and tripped. When he tripped, he broke his nose.

"Oh," said Ford.

THE END

Zaphod was on a beach. He was having a good time with a lot of girls. He was really enjoying himself, in fact. That's when he found out it was a dream.

"God damn," said Zaphod.

He was actually standing in a tub fulla cold fish. This was worse.

THE END

One day, Trillian decided she wanted an ice cream sundae. She put some ice cream in a bowl. She added some melted chocolate. Then she added some fruit. She also put in some whipped cream.

Ford took the whole mess and ate it.

Trillian was absolutely livid.

THE END

Edward Chums was at a cool party having a lot of fun, for once.

Some idiot named Arthur Dent spilled some tea on his foot. A bit on it got on Edward's foot. His evening was ruined.

THE END

The universe is not a good place for the frail minded.

There are only two things constant in the universe and those are waiting in line for the toilet and grapefruit. At any given point in time it is practically guaranteed that someone is queuing up for the toilet or doing something or other with grapefruit.

Arthur Dent was waiting in line for the toilet in the midst of a raging party, feeling very nervous.

Arthur had many reasons for feeling nervous but none of them would pass as very good ones by his friend, Ford Prefect. Firstly, he was worried about what he might find in the bathroom as the host and the hostess weren't remotely humanoid. Secondly, he was rapidly being absorbed by something that seemed to be under the impression it was flirting with him. Thirdly and perhaps most pressingly, he was in the middle of a raging party he didn't want to be at which was many, many lightyears away from earth and saw no hope of returning to Earth in the near future.

There were several things it might have benefited Arthur to know at this point. A) There was no one occupying the washroom at this time, B) He might want to take care whilst flushing the toilet unless he wanted to vacate the bathroom in the same manner as it's previous occupant and, C) He ought to duck if he wanted to avoid the grapefruit projectile which was aimed for him.

Unfortunately for Arthur, he knew none of these things and was thus hit on the side of the head with a grapefruitit made a slightly squishy noise. Sensing Arthur's injury, the lifeform, which had absorbed his leg, detached itself and went off in search of a stronger mate.

A RECORDED CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE OOBLEX CRUSH

"Lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll"

"Yeh Ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp—p-p"

"I think…we're famous…"

"We ar-we-are"

Googly, sloshy type noise.

"That s-s-s-s—sss-sounds like a lot of work"

"Yeah, probably. But it won't…Bad…Worry you…"

"What?"

"Nevermind."

END OF RECORDING


	4. And the Rest of It

Trillian and Zaphod had been teleported to a skinny hall in an office building. They were standing in front of a door with a plaque it that read: "Next to oatmeal, mush is about the best porridge. Fried mush is a really delicious substitute for potatoes, or to serve with steak, roasts, sweet bread, sausage-any meat dish in fact." At least, this was what it read in English. In Jubanese, the local tongue of the planet, it said: "Private Brain Care Specialist Resource Center."

"Oh good," said Zaphod. "I've always wanted a private braincare specialist. Maybe they can recommend a good one."

"You've already had a private braincare specialist," pointed out Trillian. She could never be sure if Zaphod was joking. "Gag Halfrunt, remember?" He's the best in the business. He stole your banjo, remember?"

"Ah ha ha," laughed Zaphod. "I knew that, actually."

"Well, I think we should go in there and ask them to check Halfrunt's files for us," said Trillian.

"I'm glad you agree," said Zaphod loudly. "It was a good plan of mine. That I thought up." He strolled in to the office with Trillian behind him, rolling her eyes. Then she smiled because she really did like Zaphod and thought he was a pretty lucky guy.

Last time we saw Ford and Arthur they were push. Now, they are button.

Arthur and Ford found themselves on a colourful platform suspended in space.

"Hey, this would be a pretty great place to have a party," said Ford.

An evil voice laughed loudly. "Ha HA Ha Haaaa! Welcome to the platform of DOOM. You will have to fight me video game style! Thus I have about ten…or maybe…A lot of Melvin minions! And I am twice my normal size!"

"Aha ha ha!" cried Ford. "You will never take us alive!"

The voice hesitated. "That's the plan, yes."

"I mean it in a bad way—for you!" retorted Ford.

"Oh. That's different, then."

"Is anyone else as scared as I am?" asked Arthur out of interest.

About a million Melvin minions ran out and attacked Arthur.

"Ghya!" he cried.

"Ghya!" cried the Melvin-minions for a different reason.

"This is hopeless!" cried Arthur.

"HAHAHA! I AM EVIL THIS TIME! SO YOU SHOULD CALL ME DARK LORD MAGUS BECAUSE THAT IS MY EVIL NAME! OKAY! OKAY! I WILL NOW LAUNCH MY ULTIMATE ATTACK! VULCAN DEATH GRIP! COOL! HUH! HUH!" is what the Melvins said before they all attempted to perform the Vulcan death grip on Arthur.

They tripped and squished each other.

"Well done, Arthur!" said Ford encouragingly. "You defeated them!"

"Am I dead?" asked Arthur. He didn't want to look. "I don't want to look."

"Neither do I," said Ford. "So I guess we'll never know."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not," said Arthur.

"You're not tricking me that way," said Ford, guardedly.

"No, really—"

"Ah ha ha HA," said Halfrunt, stepping in to the light.

"Ah!" said Ford, surprised. "I must admit. I wasn't expecting you to be so frightening.

"Telegram," said Arthur quietly.

"What!" Let me see that!" said Ford and Halfrunt. Ford snatched the telegram. "Can I have your bathrobe?" he asked. He had bad timing.

"What? No!"

"Oh, well- Nevermind," said Ford. He looked at the telegram. "HAVE TAKEN ZAPHOD AND TRILLIAN HOSTAGE STOP GIVE US THREE MILLION ALTARIAN DOLLARS IF YOU WANT TO SEE THEM AGAIN STOP TELL ARTHUR TO BRAUSH HIS TEETH STOP BEST WISHES MARION PENNY LEAH"

"Do you have a reply?" asked the telegram man.

As a matter of fact, they did: "MANY HAPPY RETURNS TO MARION STOP ARTHUR UPSET WITH THE TEETH COMMENT STOP SAYS ITS NOT LIKE HE GOES AROUND EATING PIES ALL DAY STOP GAG SENDS HIS LOVE STOP YOURS FORD".

"There," said Ford, satisfied. "That oughta lure them in to a false sense of security."

"I should think it'd just make them annoyed," said Arthur. "Seeing as you didn't act intimidated at all and made no mention of giving them money."

"Arthur, old chap," said Ford patting him on the back. "You clearly have no idea how teenage girls' minds work. Now let's go rescue our friends."

"ButWait!" said Gag Halfrunt. But nobody listened.

Penny, Leah, and Marion were cackling with glee. The reason they were cackling with glee was this: they were under the impression that their revenge had gone off entirely without a hitch. 'Revenge for what?' and inobservant reader might ask at this point. A gloating reader who had read the end but was pretending they hadn't and were just really perceptive might answer 'Well duh-'

"Oh no!" cried Leah, who had received Ford's telegram. "They aren't intimidated at all! This is just awful!"

Marion snatched the telegram and started to read. Halfway through, she folded it up and said, "Can I take this with me?" before walking off to bake some chicken.

"But—Wait!" said Penny. But nobody listened.

Ford and Arthur were trying to figure out how to break in to Penny, Marion, and Leah's fortress. They were also trying to find out when they had acquired a fortress. But that matter wasn't as pressing.

"Excuse me," said Marion. "One hundred and two paragraphs ago, you used a Joss Whedon line and forgot to credit him. Okay, carry on."

Leah carried on and caused a hullabaloo until Marion socked her in the kisser. That is, she hit Leah's kiss shaped stamp marker with a sock.

Penny punched Leah in the mouth for not offering her candy.

"I'm not laughing anymore!" declared Leah. "But I am! I mean, no I'm not!"

Ford and Arthur entered the room dressed as some teenage girls.

"Why are you guys dressed as some teenage girls?" asked Penny.

"Ha HA" cried Ford, whipping off his wig. "It is I, Ford Prefect!"

"And I, Arthur Dent," said Arthur, considerably less enthusiastically.

"Yes, we know that," said Penny. "I was just wondering why you were dressed up like teenage girls."

Ford ignored her. "Give us back our friends, you unlikely barbarians!" At this point, he expected some sort of cage to drop down. He also expected them to tell him why they had plotted revenge and to please tell him exactly how they did it.

Instead, they looked at him quizzically. "Your friends?"

Ford handed them the telegram. He then dropped to the ground, rolled to avoid any possible gunfire, and crouched at ready.

"Oh, I see," said Penny. "You must be mistaking us for the Ooblex Crush."

"THE OOBLEX CRUSH!" asked Ford.

"Yes," said Penny. "We sent our ransom note by postcard. We are holding twenty cases of rainbow trout and Zaphod's banjo for ransom until you give us an active role in the story. This isn't ours."

"But I guess you can have these back now," said Marion, nudging the pile of fish with her toe.

"Those aren't mine," said Ford, standing up slowly. "But the Ooblex Crush, you say. Come, Arthur! This requires an entirely different disguise!"

"You'll never survive!" called Marvin helpfully, peering in through the window. He followed them.

Ford, Arthur and Marvin entered the Ooblex Crush lair dressed as teenage girls. Arthur looked at Ford reproachfully.

"Budget cuts," Ford explained.

"Hey, wait! You can't go in there! We're keeping Zaphod and Trillian in there!" called Leah Lennon of the Ooblex Crush. Or tried to. It sounded more like 'Heythere.' So the three of them assumed it didn't apply to them.

The Ooblex Crush has often been described as one of the most singularly fantastic bands in existence. One of their best points is that all their songs are so refreshingly brief. This is of no real intention of their own, it just often turns out that way since they have some trouble making noise with their swollen vocal cords which are free to roam their jelly like bodies at will. The band members, Leah Lennon, Marion McCartney, and Penny Harrison, are all that remain of the Ookanputt species and therefore, generalizations about that species are often made judging by the Ooblex Crush. The Ookanputt species is known to be controversial, jelly-like, and one of the best bands in the universe. The Ooblex Crush members are often unclothed as the last time one of them tried to put on a t-shirt, their arms exploded (This wouldn't have been so unfortunate had they not been holding their guitar at the time. In a rare spurt of speech they had cried 'No! My guitar! My arms!') Even the band's toughest critics had to admit—they tasted delicious.

The Ooblex Crush's lair largely resembled the Ooblex Crush, itself. That is, it was blobby and has displaced vocal chords.

"Hey Ford, Arthur, hi how are you," said Zaphod excitedly whilst trying to retain his cool. "I've really got it made now, huh? The Ooblex Crush, man! They must think I'm a really awesome guy!"

"Don't worry, Zaphod!" called Ford. "We'll get you out of there!" He gestured at Zaphod's cell in a manner, which suggested he intended to rip the door off its hinges.

"Where's Trillian?" asked Arthur.

"Oh, er, yeah, about that," said Zaphod to buy time. "I, er, well, don't know."

"Oh," said Ford. He jumped in to the ventilation system and crawled off.

"That was really brave of him," commented Arthur, generally.

There was an awkward silence as they listened to the thumping noises of Ford crawling around in the ventilation system.

Ford gritted his teeth as he crawled in the metal tube. He pulled a pocket calculator from his satchel and made some calculations. He threw it away after it answered 63 ten straight times in a row. Then he tried to remember what he had been trying to calculate. He was very surprised when he looked up and found himself in a ventilation system. He remembered what he was doing and continued with his purposeful crawling and teeth gritting. A little way along, he found his pocket calculator and, after briefly wondering what it was doing there, slipped it back in to his satchel.

By that time, a member of the Ooblex Crush, who had slurped in to the ventilation system to find out what sort of dirt could be making that much noise and what was it doing in their oxygen anyways, had surrounded him. It pounced on him, absorbed him, and carried him off.

"Mmph!" said Ford.

Arthur stood in a comfortable sitting room feeling be _un_comfortable. Ford glared at him as he wiped large pieces of jelly off himself.

Three large jell-o's stood in the corner and attempted to discuss among themselves.

"Look," said Arthur, feeling something should be said. "All I asked was where the bathroom was."

"I tried to tell him not to," said Zaphod peevishly. His cell had been moved in to the room. "But I was helpless to stop him." He made a mock gesture of helplessness.

The Ooblex Crush turned to the three of them to announce the results of their attempted discussion. "W-we erm w-w-w-w-ell, that is-s, w-we-"

"Alright," said Zaphod, strolling out of his jail cell. "Let's get out of here."

"Butwait!" cried one of the jellies in another rare spurt of speech.

"Forget it," advised Zaphod.

"Bu…"

"Forget it!" Zaphod jumped in to the Ooblex ship, pulling Ford and Arthur with him. He looked around briefly for Marvin and quickly gave up. "Let's go!"

Trillian sat at a table in a crowded bar. She kept her mind determinedly blank as she glared at the symbols in front of her. She furiously avoided thinking about how much money she had riding on this. She looked at the robot sitting across from her. She hoped she wasn't giving anything away. "Do you—"

"Do I have a five? Is that what you were going to ask me?" interrupted the melancholy voice of the robot.

"Yes," said Trillian, defeated. "I fold, Marvin. You win."

"I feel nothing but miserable about winning," said Marvin.

"I'm sorry about that," said Trillian attempting to be sympathetic. She wasn't doing a very good job.

Marvin paused long enough to make Trillian uncomfortably aware that he knew she wasn't actually sympathetic. "Ha!" he said contemptuously. He took Trillian's money and sulked off. He took her money only because he knew it would work out badly for her. He had no idea what he might do with it. This made him utterly depressed.

Trillian shrugged. "Anymore takers?"

A man slid in to Marvin's empty seat. He had a lampshade on one of his heads. "Hey baby," he said and winked at her.

"Zaphod!" asked Trillian, astonished.

"In the flesh, baby. But keep it on the down low. This is my disguise. I go by the name Danger in this costume," said Zaphod quietly.

"Danger? As your name?" asked Trillian, incredulous. She thought of something else. "That's your disguise?"

"Zaphod, when are we leaving?" called Arthur loudly to be heard over the noise of the bar. He was not enjoying himself. "Oh, hello Trillian."

About a million undercover Galactic police pounced on Zaphod.

Arthur slapped his forehead. "I meant Danger! Danger!"

"Dung Brians!" cursed Zaphod loudly.

Arthur had a bad feeling. Ford had an annoyed feeling. He also had a drunk feeling. Not adequately drunk, though. That was why he had an annoyed feeling.

"Alright," said Ford to no one. He pulled a banana from his satchel, aimed, and fired. "Blam, blam, blam, blam-blam-blam-BLAM!"

"Aah!" cried a policeman, clutching his heart. He fell to the floor.

"Blam-blam, whizz!" cried Ford.

Two more policemen fell to the floor.

"How are you doing that!" cried Arthur.

"My methods are purely psychological," said Ford gravely.

"My brain!" cried Arthur and went off for some quiet time in the bathroom.

The Galactic Police's methods were not psychological. A female trainee shoved a gun in to Ford's back. "Alright, mister. Show's over."

"My dear girl," said Ford. "You can't possibly penetrate my fish skin armor. It's a force field of the strongest kind.

"Alright," she shrugged and stalked off.

"Ford, hi," said Zaphod. "You know I'm having a really bad day?"

Ford threw Zaphod a grapefruit with which he was meant to unlock his handcuffs with. Zaphod ate it instead.

"Ah!" cried Ford, aghast. "That was my only grapefruit!"

Trillian snatched the key from one of the policemen and unlocked Zaphod. The policeman violently objected to this so Ford peacefully shot him with his banana.

"Argh!" cried the policeman.

"Aha ha ha!" laughed Ford. That was supposed to be his evil laugh. It didn't come out quite right, though. Maybe he ought to practice it more.

"Where's Arthur?" asked Trillian.

"Oh, ah," said Ford. "I think he was having some brain trouble."

"What else is new?" snapped Zaphod, impatiently. "Let's get monkeyman and get out of here."

Five minutes later, all four of them were conveniently converged on the Heart of Gold.

Ten minutes later, the Heart of Gold was conveniently far from all police ships and a pleasant distance from any Vogon ones. However, it turned out they were a very unfortunate distance from a large, flowery ship, which was something they found out after they crashed in to it. The force of the crash propelled them in to the gravitational force of a particularly ominous looking planet. As it turned out, the planet's gravitational force had a uniquely tractor beam-like effect with was drawing them and the flowery ship towards the surface of the planet. The surface was a particularly sinister looking one.

"Oh great," said Arthur, weakly.

Ford looked the planet up in the guide. What it said was this:

"_There is no entry for the planet Crayit as there is no one stupid enough to go on it._"

"Hey guys!" said Ford excitedly. "We're landing on an uncharted planet!"

They landed. The owner of the flowery ship, a man with two bushy tufts of hair and pink Hawaiian shirt stepped out of the flowery ship. When they stepped out of their's he immediately started in on them.

"Look! Look what you did!" cried the man gesturing at his ship angrily. There was a large scrapish-dent in the side of it.

"Yes," said Ford, taking charge. "And we're very sorry abo-"

"You've chipped the paint is what you've done!" he carried on. He was standing knee deep in a swamp but he didn't seem to notice. The swamp seemed to be oozing some sort of radioactive material.

"Look," said Ford. "We'll pay for the damage." It was a barefaced lie but the man didn't care or notice. He was absolutely set on being righteously indignant.

"And the window-I think you've scatched, you'd better pat for that too." A tentacle-y animal was slowing wrapping itself around his leg.

"You've-" Ford tried to tell him.

"And another thing. What do you think you are doing materializing your ship wherever you damn please, do you think you're King of the road? You're idiots. Stupid idiots! Are you crazy?"

Arthur was reminded forcibly of everytime he had every broken a traffic law-pedestrian or no-in front of a shrill woman. He had the same feeling in his stomach.

"Can we please put this behind us?" asked Ford, exasperated.

"We most certainly can not—" A volcano exploded, cutting the man off. "Nasty planet, isn't this?" he realized, surprised. This was the last thing he said before he was suddenly pulled in to the swamp by the tentacle-y thing with a squelching noise.

"Hate that sort of person," said Ford. "Can't take anything in stride."

"Did I miss anything?" asked Zaphod. "I was just freshening up."

"Nothing worth mentioning," Trillian assured him.

"What happens now?" asked Zaphod.

"Well, we can either go home or go on some sort of journey," said Trillian. A pained look passed across her face.

"Home is a bad idea for me," said Zaphod hastily.

"This planet is a bad idea for me," said Arthur levelly.

Zaphod fished out his peril sensitive sunglasses before agreeing.

By that time, the ship had sunk in to the swamp.

Zaphod made a big show of pretending this was just what he had meant to happen before seriously thinking about what to do. He thought it should probably involve them getting off this planet.

By the time he remembered the flowery ship, it had also sunk in to the swamp.

"Oh," said Zaphod. "Ah."

"I recommend," began Zaphod.

"We should-" Zaphod started.

"What?" asked Ford.

"Get our ship out of that swamp."

"Oh," said Ford.

"Maybe we should find someone who knows how," Zaphod went on. "Wait, hang on, I'm having a brains wave here. We go and find some cat with some sort of spaceship from swamp remover and we…"

"…Yes?"

"Steal it from him," finished Zaphod, triumphantly.

"Good plan," said Ford.

"Right," said Zaphod.

"Get to it," said Ford.

"Right," said Zaphod. He did nothing. It began raining.

"Excuse me?" said a brusque voice.

"Yes?" said Trillian.

"I hear you're looking for a spaceship from swamp remover." He stepped in to the light. He was wearing a crisp suit and his hair was well-combed.

"Yes," said Trillian emphatically. "We are. Do you have one?"

"No," said the man. "But I am a very good lawyer."

"That doesn't help us!" cried Zaphod angrily.

"Well, I have a friend who's an accountant. Do you need one of those?"

"I might," said Arthur.

"He might not, he means," said Trillian hastily, seeing the sales pitch look on the man's face.

"I see," said the man gravely. "Come to my office." They followed him.

"What happened…here," said Arthur gesturing at the general landscape.

"I beg your pardon?" asked the man. "Oh. I see what you're asking. Well, we don't think about, erm," he fumbled for the word 'outside' "all this very much. Don't see a need for it, really. I'm told it used to be quite nice. I prefer offices. We all do: MoreMore—suitable, if you will, for our line of work. Accounting and such. I'm also very fond of food courts. That's where I eat my lunch," he explained.

They stepped through some glass revolving doors. Inside was the sort of high vaulted, wood paneled foyer you'd expect to see underneath some hundred floors of big, respectable corporation. A shiny brass sign declared 'Dickens and Chums Celebrity Law'.

"Every once and awhile, I get sent out to look for customers," the lawyer explained.

"What's your name?" asked Zaphod, suspiciously.

"Mr. Gray," said Mr. Gray.

Zaphod nodded, his suspicions confirmed.

"You mean you have spent your whole lives in offices?" asked Arthur, incredulously.

"And food courts," Mr. Gray reminded him.

"That's an awful life!" exclaimed Trillian.

"Well, we all get company cars," said Mr. Gray defensively.

"Where do you drive them to?" asked Zaphod sarcastically.

"They are very nice cars," said Mr. Gray firmly. "Now, let's see what we can do about your ship. Do you need it appraised?"

"No."

"Do you need it cleaned?"

"Not at the moment."

"Pea-shooted?"

"No."

"Pity. We offer that service for free. Maybe you would like it slapped with a fish?"

"Not particularly."

"Good. That takes a lot of paper work and someone has to go outside. Do you need a retail adviser?"

"No!"

Mr. Gray sighed. He could see these people were going to be difficult. "Perhaps something more obscure. Do you require a spaceship from swamp remover professional?"

"That," said Ford, "Would do nicely."

"Alright," said Mr. Gray, smiling relievedly. He pushed a button and began speaking in to a loud speaker. "We have need of Mr. Earl in the main foyer, please. Mr. Earl, main foyer. Thank you."

"You need me?" asked a gruff voice from behind them.

"Ah. Mr. Earl," said Mr. Gray. "These people require your services."

"These people want me ter get their spaceship out of a swamp?" Mr. Earl was a huge beefy man in jean overalls. Arthur wondered if he was going to pull the ship out with his bare hands.

He pulled a spaceship from swamp remover out of his pocket. It looked to Arthur like a bunch of things glued together on a miniature inflatable raft. But his main concern was that it was only about two inches high.

"Alright," said Mr. Earl. "Show me the swamp."

They walked outside. Ford showed him the swamp. Mr. Earl pitched the spaceship from swamp remover in to the swamp.

"Darn," he said. "I've dropped it." He thought for awhile, reached in and pulled out the spaceship with his bare hands.

"Thanks!" said Ford. They all ran in to the Heart of Gold because nobody wanted to tell Mr. Earl they didn't have any money.

"Well," said Trillian, once they were safely away from Mr. Earl. "What happens now?"

"Do you want to be returned to Earth?" asked Ford.

"I'm sorry," apologized Arthur. "I didn't hear you correctly."

They returned Arthur to Earth. Arthur went directly to bed.

When Arthur woke up the next morning, the first thing he decided to do was open his closet. He was a bit excited about this decision as he hadn't opened his closet in a long, long time.

When he opened it, a skeleton fell on him.

"Argh!" he cried.

"Happy birthday!" said Arthur's friend, Ford Prefect. He stood in the doorway of Arthur's room.

"It's not my birthday," Arthur managed from underneath the skeleton.

"It was when I put it in there," Ford pointed out. "As a practical joke, if you like. Or a present, if you will."

Arthur grinned weakly.

"Look," said Ford, more business-like now that he had gotten the formalities out of the way. "Can I borrow that?" he gestured towards the skeleton.

"Alright," said Arthur.

"Thanks a million—you won't regret this."

Arthur very much doubted that.

THE END


End file.
